


Only Us

by sonicrainicorn



Series: Berry Done AU [9]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Human, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Because of Reasons, Fluff and Angst, Foster Care, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I tried to be as accurate as possible, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Logic | Logan Sanders Needs a Hug, Minor Character Death, Thomas is just trying his best, also i'm actually sorry, i amped up the rating for this one, i felt it was safer to do that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-19 11:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22576777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonicrainicorn/pseuds/sonicrainicorn
Summary: Thomas and Logan have always been close. From the moment Logan was born, Thomas swore he’d do anything for his baby brother. Unfortunately, it was a promise to be taken to the extremes.
Relationships: Logic | Logan Sanders & Thomas Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Other(s)
Series: Berry Done AU [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1259483
Comments: 19
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Does everything I touch turn to angst? Yes. Am I sorry about it? Only a little

Thomas sat in the waiting room of the hospital. Every once in a while a nurse or some other staff member would ask him if he was okay or if he needed something, but he would respond that he was waiting to have a baby brother. A couple of them continued their concern by asking if he had any relatives to sit with and Thomas simply said it was just him.

He sat there for a while, dangling his feet, without a word on how his mother -- Abigail -- was doing. He didn’t quite understand how childbirth worked, but he was pretty sure that it might hurt a bit. Didn’t someone always come and say how the patient is doing in the movies? Maybe that was different for pregnant people. He didn’t know for sure. What he did know was that he was getting really bored.

After what felt like an eternity, Thomas’s father came into the waiting room. Thomas lept off of the seat and bounded toward his father, asking a million questions at once.

“Slow down, Thomas,” his father said with a twinkle in his eye. “Don’t you want to meet Logan?”

* * *

Logan wasn’t even a year old when their father left. At the time, Thomas had no idea why he even left at all. It didn’t make any sense. He thought that maybe his dad didn't like Logan or maybe Thomas did something wrong to cause him to leave. He didn’t color in the lines on that coloring page he gave him once -- was that it?

Thomas thought his mother didn’t care much. She showed herself to be happy and even cheered him up when he cried about not having a dad anymore. He learned he was wrong, though. He found her sobbing on the couch after he was supposed to be in bed one night. After that, he tried his best to be there for his mother and help her out if she ever needed it.

By the time Logan was a little over a year, Thomas had become a secondary caregiver.

He minded a little bit at first since part of him wanted to blame Logan for their dad leaving forever, but he let it go after a while. There was no way anyone would leave because of Logan -- Logan was adorable! He had the cutest chubby cheeks and the softest brown hair ever. He would laugh whenever Thomas made a silly face or smile when their mom talked to him. Sure, he had to see the doctor a lot, but he was the best baby brother in the whole world.

“Bye, Logan,” Thomas chirped to his sibling sitting in the high chair. He had to walk down to the corner to catch the bus for school -- he could do it on his own now! “Mom, I’m leaving now.”

“No!”

Thomas paused with his hand on the front doorknob. He peered around the wall to see Logan with a tiny scowl on his face. “Did you just...?” Thomas grinned. “Mom! Mommy! Logan said his first word.”

“He did?” Abigail’s voice came from the hall. “Oh, I can’t believe I missed it. What did he say?”

“‘No’.”

“‘No’?” She walked down the hall with an amused grin. “Out of all the words...” She shook her head.

“I don't think he wants me to go to school.” Thomas shrugged. “Guess I’ll have to stay home.” He tried to walk around her.

She grabbed the handle of his backpack. “Nice try, Thomas.”

* * *

“No.”

Thomas groaned. “C’mon, bear, it’ll be fun.”

Logan pouted. “I don’t wanna.”

“ _Mom_.” Thomas draped over the couch dramatically. “Logan doesn’t wanna go trick-or-treating with me.”

Thomas, being ten-years-old, had been allowed to go trick-or-treating with his friends next week. He didn’t want Logan to miss out on any of the fun. It wouldn’t have been fair for Thomas to go out and get candy while Logan stayed inside and didn’t get anything.

“Well, if he doesn’t want to go then he doesn’t have to,” she responded with a smile. “He can just stay with me and hand out candy.”

“But why hand out candy when he can _get_ candy?”

His mother smirked. She turned to the chair Logan was sitting on. “Logan, baby, would you rather stay here with me or go get candy with Thomas?”

Logan crossed his arms -- or rather, did an imitation of it -- and frowned. “I wanna stay here.” He had a little lisp that he hadn’t grown out of yet.

Thomas picked himself up enough to see Logan. “But if you come with me then you get to dress up as whatever you want.”

Logan dropped his arms. “Whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want.”

That’s how Logan ended up going trick-or-treating with Thomas. They had to do some last-minute things in order to get the costume that Logan wanted, but it all worked out. Their mother was quite talented.

When Halloween night rolled around, the two were ready to go. Thomas was so excited to go out and get candy with his friends and brother, that when it was time to go he ran out the door. He almost brought down both Valerie and Terrence. Logan walked out calmly after him.

“Keep an eye out for your brother,” Abigail chided from the doorway. “Don’t stay out too late. And all of you kids stay together, alright?”

There were various confirmations from the four children. This would be their first year trick-or-treating without an adult. It was exciting for them. Having three ten-year-olds and a five-year-old wandering the dark neighborhood by themselves might have caused many grown-ups to go into a panic, but luckily, the parents of these children were more than willing to give it a shot.

“We have to hit as many houses as we can,” Valerie said. She was dressed as Belle. “My mom gave me extra bags just in case.”

“My brother showed me a few houses on the next block that have full-sized candy bars,” Terrence mentioned. He decided to go as a zombie this year. “Maybe we could go there?”

“We gotta get the neighborhood first.” Valerie turned over her shoulder. “What do you think, Thomas?”

“Great.” Thomas was a hundred percent on board for anything. He dressed as Spider-Man for a _reason_ and that was to get as much candy as possible from the adults that thought he was cute. “What about you, little astronaut? Think you can handle that?”

Logan nodded. The visor from his helmet fell over his eyes.

The four of them went from house to house, gathering comments on how cute they were about as much as they gained candy. A grandma or two even gave Logan some extra because the visor from his helmet kept falling over his eyes. That's when the three older kids decided that Logan should be in front at all houses. If they saw the cutest of them first, then maybe they might end up with more candy. For the most part, their theory was supported. It worked the best with mothers and grandparents.

They tried to stay clear of the houses that seemed extra scary. They attempted to approach one, but Logan refused to even set foot in the driveway. Not even Thomas could persuade him to go.

Other than that, they were having a great time. They all had to use Valerie's extra bags to hold all their candy. Thomas had to help Logan with his since it got too heavy for him.

"Okay," Valerie sighed. She set down her bags of candy on the curb. "I think we have enough room for a few more houses."

"But I'm tired," Logan grumbled. He moved his head and the visor came down.

"We're almost done, bear." Thomas moved the visor for him.

Valerie stretched out her fingers. "Do you know any more good houses, Terrence?"

"There's one at the corner." Terrence used his shoulder to motion in the direction of the house. "That might be enough to fill the rest of our bags."

The four of them started making their way down the street. Thomas kept having to make sure Logan didn't fall too far behind.

But the night was starting to change. A lot of the kids their age were starting to head back home. Most of the kids still out were older -- teenagers. A lot of them weren't even trick-or-treating and instead just hanging around outside.

After maneuvering through a big group of kids moving in the opposite direction, Thomas and his friends made it.

"You're up, bear," Thomas said. He glanced at his side only to do a double-take. "Logan?" His brother wasn't there. "Logan?!"

"What's wrong?" Terrence asked.

Thomas started panicking. "Logan's gone." He looked around. "Logan?"

Valerie gasped. "We have to find him. C'mon." She led the two boys back the way they came.

The three of them began calling out to Logan and asking adults if they had seen a little astronaut around. Thomas tried his best to not start crying.

All he could think about was losing his baby brother forever and how angry his mother would be. How could he do this? He thought Logan had been next to him this whole time. What would he do if they couldn't find him?

"He's right there!" Valerie grabbed Terrence and Thomas's arms.

Logan was standing in the middle of the sidewalk. He looked tinier than usual. As if he was trying to hide within himself.

Thomas broke free of Valerie's grasp. "Logan!" He dropped his candy bags so nothing could hold him back as he ran.

Logan spun around, making his visor fall. When he pulled it up, Thomas could see that he had been crying.

He scooped his little astronaut into his arms.

"T-T -- omas," Logan choked out. "I, I c-couldn't. I was, I was lost a-and --"

"I'm here, bear." Thomas managed to keep himself composed. "I'm sorry I lost you. It won't happen again, I promise."

"I w-wanna go ho-ome."

Thomas looked up at his friends. They looked back at him with concern. "We will."

Just as Thomas was about to get up to lead everyone back, two figures with masks came up behind them. They shouted indiscernible noises to scare the children. It worked.

The four kids screamed and ran. Thomas held Logan in his arms the whole way back, candy forgot on the ground for those teenagers to take.

* * *

One September day, Logan came home in a bitter mood. He was snappy and angry and very unlike his usual self. Abigail assumed it was due to starting up in first grade, but Thomas thought it deeper than that. Regardless, they both encouraged Logan to tell them what was wrong. He refused every time.

This continued to happen every day for the rest of the month.

After a particularly bad day, with Logan almost in tears, Thomas decided to intervene. There would be an hour or two before their mother got home.

“What happened today at school, bear?”

Logan climbed onto the couch next to Thomas. “Nothing.” He crossed his arms and scowled.

“So you didn’t learn anything or make new friends?” Thomas was determined to figure this out.

Logan’s scowl deepened. “No.”

Thomas frowned a bit. He scooted himself off the couch to kneel in front of Logan like their mom does when she talks about something serious. “You can tell me anything, Logan. I get if you don’t wanna tell Mom, but she’s not here right now.” He tried to give an encouraging smile. “I won’t tell her if you don’t want me to.”

Logan stared at him for a moment. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I-it’s just a stupid reason.” His pronunciation came out with strong ‘th’ sounds instead of the actual ‘s’. It caused him to frown. “Never mind, I don’t wanna talk about it.” He tried to get off the couch.

“Hey, wait.” Thomas put his hands on his shoulders to keep him in place. “I’m not gonna make fun of you or anything. I’m your brother, Logan, I wouldn’t ever do that.”

Fresh tears began to glisten in Logan’s eyes. “B-but, I -- but everyone --” They started falling. “Everyone else does. They do it all the time.”

Thomas’s heart clenched. “Why would they do that?”

“I talk funny.” Logan twisted the end of his shirt in his hands. “I don’t say things right.”

“There’s nothing wrong with how you talk.” Thomas frowned. Yes, Logan had a bit of a lisp that he hadn’t grown out of, but nothing was wrong with that. That was just how he talked.

Logan didn’t say anything to that.

“Hey, I’m serious.”

Logan didn’t look at him. “I just wanna go to my room.”

Thomas frowned but let him go anyway. It didn’t seem as if there was anything he could do right now to help.

So when their mom got home he may have mentioned how insecure Logan was feeling with his lisp. He didn’t want to break a promise, but his baby brother needed to get through this. And the only way for that to happen is to get their mother involved.

She was super smart -- she would know what to do.

Most of this was a blur to Thomas at the time. He remembers Logan beginning speech therapy and a lot more talking going on in the house than usual. Their mother would consistently practice with Logan whenever she was home. She began reading bedtime stories and poems to get Logan more comfortable about reading out loud (sometimes Thomas joined in, other times he pretended he was too old for storytime).

It was all one big swirl of reading and speaking. Often times it got hard to keep Logan motivated; the kids at school continued to tease him. Thomas remembers their mother having to go down to the school to talk with Logan’s teacher about it.

He didn’t have any friends. He didn’t have anyone to play with during recess. He spent most of his time alone and was always the one left without a partner for classwork.

Thomas thought it was pretty unfair. Nothing was wrong with Logan. Those kids were just being mean.

Then one day, for the first time ever, Logan came out of class smiling. Thomas stood amongst other parents, as he usually did, ignoring their typical worried stares for a more pressing matter. He had never seen Logan like this before.

Logan’s smile got wider when he spotted Thomas. He ran up to him and gave him a hug.

Thomas almost stumbled back from the velocity of such a tiny body crashing into him. “Hey, bear,” he couldn’t help but laugh. “You seem excited today.”

Logan nodded into his chest. He pulled back to say, “I have something to be excited about.”

“Oh really?” Thomas grinned at him. “Maybe you can tell me on our way home.”

The whole way back, Logan couldn’t stop buzzing with excitement. A new girl joined their class. She ignored all those mean kids and decided to hang out with Logan. They spent the whole day together! They played in the sandbox and she taught him how to make flower crowns. She didn’t make fun of him or anything, either. Her name was Cara.

Thomas felt his chest warm up at his baby brother’s happiness. He made a friend.

Once their mom got home, Logan told her all about Cara. He still didn’t lose any of his excitement. This might have been the most energetic they had ever seen him.

“Well, she sounds lovely, baby,” Abigail said with a smile. She ruffled her son’s hair. “But I have a little surprise for you.” She laughed a bit at his wide eyes. “Would you like to see it?”

“Yes, yes!” Logan bounced up and down.

She laughed again. “Alright, settle down.” She rooted around her purse. “I know it’s in here somewhere...” She pretended to search hard for something and gave Thomas a wink. “Ah, here it is.” Out came a plastic bag from the store. She handed it to Logan.

Logan reached inside and pulled out a book. An interesting shade of blue with an illustration of a boy and a clock-dog. “The Ph -- Pha -- uh --” Logan blinked at it. He looked up at his mother. “What does it say?”

“The Phantom Tollbooth.” She knelt down to his level. “I figured we could read it together. I thought you’d like a new bedtime story.”

Logan’s eyes lit up. “Can we read it tonight?”

“Of course.” She kissed his forehead. “Would you like to join us, Thomas?”

Thomas wanted to say no, but he saw the expression on Logan’s face and didn’t have much of a choice. “Sure.”

* * *

Logan and Cara continued to be close friends throughout elementary school. She would come over often to play and would stay until the sun went down. She really helped to turn around Logan’s view on things; she was such a positive, bubbly kid.

“They’re so cute,” Valerie sighed as she looked at the two kids playing.

Thomas glanced over at them. They were trying to make a house of cards. Anytime it fell down Cara would giggle instead of getting upset. “Yeah.”

“Do you think they like each other?” Terrance asked. “As in like-like each other?”

“‘Like-like’?” Thomas couldn’t help but raise a brow at that word choice. But no, as far as he knew Logan did not “like-like” anybody. “He’s never actually shown interest in girls. Or boys. Or anyone really.” He shrugged. “I don’t think he’s going to have any crushes any time soon.”

“Really?” Valerie took her eyes off the kids to move them towards Thomas. “What makes you so sure?”

He shrugged again. “I dunno. Just a feeling I guess. He’s never talked about anyone in that way before.”

“Maybe that’ll change soon.” She smiled. “He’ll be going into fourth grade, right? Maybe someone will catch his eye.”

“That’s when I had my first real crush,” Terrance sighed wistfully. “Those were great times.”

Thomas went quiet as Valerie and Terrance started talking about crushes. He didn’t know why, but talking about Logan getting his own crush gave him a bad taste in his mouth. It didn’t seem right. Logan never said if a girl was pretty or if a boy did something nice for him. He only valued Cara’s friendship. And that seemed as far as he would go.

Funnily enough, that topic would come up again a few days later.

“Mama,” Logan started, his voice quieter than usual.

Thomas was at the kitchen table doing math homework. Their mother was cooking dinner but would stop by to help him every once in a while. That’s where she was when Logan came out.

“Yes, baby?” She pointed at the number Thomas needed to move.

“Do you think I’m weird?”

They both stopped what they were doing to look up at him.

“Of course not.” She frowned. “Why would you ask that? Did someone call you weird?”

Logan shrugged. He toed at the ground. “One of Cara’s friends asked if I liked anybody and then said it was weird when I said no. She kept telling me that I had to like somebody.”

“And what did Cara say about that?”

A small smile graced Logan’s lips. “She pushed her in the sand and told her not to make fun of me.”

Thomas laughed a bit. He would have done the same thing.

Abigail moved around to the other side of the table. She knelt to be eye-level with her son. “Logan, baby, it’s okay if you don’t like someone right now. It’s okay if you never like anyone, even. Just because you think a little different doesn’t mean you’re weird -- you’re just unique. So don’t let anyone ever tell you you have to be a certain way, alright?”

Logan nodded. “Alright.”

She smiled and ruffled his hair. “And tell Cara not to beat up any more girls.”

“I’ll think about it.” He giggled.

Logan never had another issue about crushes again.

The following year, Cara taught Logan something that would change his life forever. It might have seemed dramatic for something so simple, but it was true. This would end up being a big deal in his future.

“You can play guitar?!”

Cara giggled at Logan’s expression. “Only a little bit. I got it for my birthday last year and I’ve been trying to learn it.” She shifted the guitar so it sat better on her lap. Compared to her size, it was rather big.

“That’s so cool.” Logan grinned at her. His lisp had long since vanished, though part of him still expected it to come out and someone to make fun of him.

“You think so?” Cara returned his grin. “Do you wanna learn with me?”

Logan beamed. “Can I?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Yes!”

Cara’s grin widened.

They spent the rest of the year learning together. Logan went over every other day of the week. He picked it up a lot faster than any of them realized. He was pretty good at it. Cara’s mother insisted he was a natural, which always made his face get really hot. He just liked to learn and had a good teacher. Abigail laughed softly, making a passing comment about him being humble. He wasn’t quite sure he knew what that meant yet.

When summer rolled around, Logan and Cara were free to hang out whenever they wanted. Cara didn’t have any siblings, but she had both of her parents. She got everything she asked for (not that she ever asked for much), and Logan wondered if that was due to her being an only child or because having both parents made it easier. Her house had more space, her room had more toys, and she didn’t have to share it. She shared it with Logan, though. She often asked if he could spend the night. The answer was always yes.

The first time Logan ever slept over, his mother was hesitant to let him go. He never had friends to sleep over with before. And he had bad experiences with kids teasing him. And he was her baby. And he was so small. And he needed to be protected. And --

Thomas convinced her to let him go.

It was fun.

After seeing that nothing went wrong, he was allowed to do it again. (But that didn’t stop Abigail from scooping her son in her arms and peppering him with kisses the very next morning.)

So tonight, Logan sat on the floor of Cara’s bedroom with her guitar in his hands. He strummed at it idly, messing around with cords rather than playing a song. Cara watched him from her bed. Her hands were folded over the edge of her bedpost with her head resting on top. One of her legs hung off, and she swung it in time to the soft changes in keys.

“You’re really good,” she muttered, her voice pouring out like dazed honey.

Logan paused, his cheeks getting warm, before trying to use familiar cords to flesh out a song he heard earlier. “I-I’m _okay.”_ He didn’t know why everyone insisted he was good. He didn’t get it. He only did what he was taught.

Cara smiled, a soft lazy thing compared to her normal Cheshire grins. “You’re gonna be, like, a rockstar when you’re grown up.”

Logan scrunched his nose. “No.”

“Then what _are_ you gonna be?”

He didn’t know. Two years ago he wanted to be a doctor. He shrugged.

“Well, _I’m_ gonna be a dancer.” She hopped to her feet and did a very elegant plie, followed by a releve -- naturally. “And I’m gonna be really good and dance all over the world.” She attempted a pirouette, but it wasn’t as elegant. “And you can be there playing songs for me to dance to, and we’ll both be really good together.”

Logan stopped. Somehow, he felt that wasn’t practical, but he didn’t care very much. Not right now, anyway. He smiled at her, something bubbling in his chest at being a really good team. “We have to be grown-up first.”

Cara blew a raspberry and waved her hand. “We’ll be grown up, like, tomorrow.” She fell back on her bed.

“That’s not how that works.”

She blew another raspberry.

Logan set the guitar to the side and jumped on the bed, earning a surprised squeal from Cara. He blew a raspberry on her cheek.

“Aw, gross!” Despite her disgust, she laughed as she tried to push him away. “You’re gonna pay for that.” She rolled on top of him and ran her wiggling fingers up and down his sides.

The reaction was immediate. He burst into laughter, trying to get away from her hands. “No, no, no! S-stop!”

“Say that I win.”

“Never!”

She paused only to grin at him, the tips of their noses almost touching. “Then you leave me no choice.” She bent down and pushed his shirt up. Before he had time to react, she blew a big raspberry onto his exposed tummy.

He squealed with laughter. “Stop! O-okay -- _okay!_ You win. Stop it. I, I c-can’t breathe.” He tried to push her head away.

She popped up with a smile. “Was that so hard?”

Logan could only giggle in response.

A knock came from the door. “You two better be getting to bed. It’s getting late,” Cara’s mother scolded from the other side.

“We will,” Cara responded, knowing full well they weren’t.

They did, however, turn off the light. They both sat under the blankets of Cara’s bed with a flashlight. At first, it was to tell scary stories, but it tapered off into something else. Something softer. They talked about each other, about their families. Their hopes and their dreams. They were going to head into sixth grade soon.

“I hope we’re friends forever,” Cara whispered.

Logan wished the same.

They fell asleep that night close together, sharing the same blanket.

* * *

Cara left two months into the sixth grade.

She had to move.

She came to Logan crying about it, which shocked him. He hadn’t seen her cry before. No matter how many times she got frustrated, or how many times she skinned her knee, she always held back her tears. She was tough. Logan wished he could be that way sometimes.

But that day she came to him in tears was the day he knew something was very, very wrong. And she told him her dad got a new job. Somewhere far away. Somewhere away from Logan.

It didn’t feel fair.

Logan had to watch his best and only friend go away. He had to watch as she paid less and less attention to school because it didn’t even matter in the end. She wouldn’t stay long. Cara had always been a good student. It didn’t seem right to see her ignore assignments. But maybe she was right. These teachers would never see her again, anyway.

The day Cara moved was sunny. A perfect Saturday afternoon.

Yet Logan hated it.

Before she left for good, she stopped by his house. Of course she did. There was no way she would leave without a final goodbye. And there was no way her parents would say no to her.

Logan remembered this moment better than most of his childhood memories. Whenever he thought back on it, it always felt fresh. Like Cara had left yesterday with his heart shattered in pieces.

Her parents stayed in the car while she walked up the front lawn. Her guitar case was strapped to her back, but she ignored the slight trouble it gave her. Thomas and Abigail remained on the porch as Logan rushed forward to meet her at the edge of the grass.

“Hi,” she said softly.

Logan swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Um.” She messed with the strap. “I...” When she couldn’t seem to find the right words, she slipped off the case and handed it to him. “Here.”

Logan blinked. “What?”

“You’re really good a-and I’m not, but that’s okay. I-I enjoyed watching you play it more than I played it.” She slipped her fingers away. “I want you to have it.”

He didn’t know what to say. The lump in his throat started to sting. “Thank you.”

Cara nodded, but that seemed to be the last of her composure. Her eyes got watery and her face twisted to hold in any sobs. She threw her arms around Logan to pull him into a tight hug. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Logan tried not to cry. So he didn’t speak.

“Promise you won’t stop playing.”

He nodded.

She pulled away, her hands lingering on his shoulders. Then she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “We’re gonna meet again someday.” Without waiting for a response (or otherwise she might start bawling), she headed back down the lawn.

And that was enough for Logan to start crying. He put his face in his mother’s side, unable to see his best friend drive away and out of his life.

He didn’t know how he was going to get through middle school without Cara. He had no one else to turn to. Most of the kids in his grade followed him from elementary school. They never learned to like him, and they had their own friend groups established a long time ago. He would never fit in with them. And he was convinced this was the worst moment of his life.

He was proved wrong, of course.

It was a year after Cara left. April. There was an accident.

Logan didn’t remember hearing the news. He knew that he did. He had to. He just... couldn’t wrap his head around it. It was unbelievable. It wasn’t real. Those words were never meant to be arranged in that way and spoken into existence.

Thomas broke down and sobbed as soon as the policeman left. But Logan didn’t. He still didn’t understand what was going on. It still didn’t feel real.

So Logan just went through the motions after that. He had a sandwich for dinner. Just to have something. He wasn’t sure if Thomas ate anything at all. Then he went to bed. But he didn’t sleep. He had _The Phantom Tolbooth_ in his hands, yet the words on the pages were foreign to him. As he attempted to read something despite his blank mind, Thomas came in to check on him.

He sat on the edge of the bed but struggled to say anything at all. “Are you... okay?”

Logan didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t feel anything. Instead, he whispered, “What do we do now?”

Thomas paused. His eyes were still puffy and red from his tears. “I don’t know.”

The funeral was small. It wasn’t as if there was a family to invite, anyway. There were only her co-workers -- people Logan met once or twice -- and Thomas’s friends and their parents. He didn’t remember much besides that. He wasn’t sure if it was a repression thing or just memories lost to time. But he remembered Thomas crying in the beginning and then never again for the rest of the day. He remembered people giving their condolences. He remembered Valerie and Terrance crying and hugging Thomas, but Thomas didn’t shed a single tear. And he thought that was odd. Because Thomas cried for a lot of things, but _especially_ if his friends are crying.

And then it was over.

He and Thomas arrived home at the end of the day. When they got home, Logan half expected to hear humming from the kitchen or bustling down the hall. It was around the time she did chores. She would have been doing something. Except nothing happened. The lights were off. The house was eerily quiet. When he looked into the living room, there was no one there. She wouldn’t ever be there again.

He cried.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. This was longer than I realized
> 
> ***The rest of the tags apply here so TAKE PRECAUTION. And note that the non-con is more attempted than anything. But either way, it's never explicitly mentioned or described. Also I'm sorry***

It must have been a day after the funeral. Logan was in his room, laying stomach down on his bed with his face in the pillow. He didn’t want to do anything. Thomas was in the kitchen making cookies from scratch. Unlike Logan, he needed to do something. And then there was a knock at the door.

Logan didn’t think much about it at first. Yeah, it was a little weird, but maybe it was important mail or someone who tries to sell stuff. That happened sometimes.

He heard Thomas open the door and... let that person in. Okay. That didn’t normally happen. Still, it might not have been important. Maybe. Yeah, okay, Logan was curious now. He rolled out of bed and shuffled to his door.

There was a deep voice coming from the other side that he didn’t recognize. He didn’t focus on the words at the moment, he was more focused on the voice and the millions of questions it gave him. Who was it? Why were they here? What could they possibly want?

He tried to be as silent as possible as he snuck out the door. He didn’t want anyone hearing him for fear that they may stop talking. He learned recently that adults stop talking about important things when they see that a kid is nearby. But he wanted to know those important things. He peeked down the hall.

Thomas sat with a man at the dining table. The man wore nice clothes, but nothing that could be considered fancy. He looked serious, though. Thomas didn’t seem too happy about what he had to say. And then Logan heard the words “emergency foster care”. This man was a social worker.

Their mother had no siblings. There were no aunts or uncles or cousins to take them in. Her parents died before either of the boys had a chance to know them. There was no one to fall back on.

He and Thomas were going into foster care.

“We’ll try to be contacting your father as soon as possible,” the man explained. “But until then, you will have to be placed with an emergency foster family.”

“No,” Thomas said, borderline indignant. “I can take care of Logan myself. I-I helped raise him. I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m sorry, but this is how it has to go. You two have to be cared for by a legal adult.”

_ “I’m _ going to be a legal adult. I turn eighteen next week.”

“And when that week comes you get to see him as much as you wish.”

Logan didn’t want to hear this anymore. He may have been young, but he knew what was going to happen. They were going to separate him and Thomas. The likelihood of someone wanting to take care of two teenage boys was slim. And when Thomas turned eighteen, he’d be free to leave. But Logan would be stuck. They wouldn’t see Thomas as a suitable guardian. He had no job -- no source of income. He was still in high school.

Going over all the facts made Logan feel... something. He felt his chest tighten and his legs go weak. There was a pressure pushing down on him, making everything seem too small. He needed to get out -- he needed to stop hearing this.

He ran back to his room and shut the door. He dove under the covers of his bed like a scared little kid. Maybe that’s what he was. All he was was a scared little kid who cried at things he couldn’t stand up to. Who froze up and ran away when he heard things he didn’t like.

He tried to wrap the blanket tighter around himself to drown out his thoughts. They were too loud. He couldn’t breathe. It was like his lungs forgot how to expand and contract on their own. They were doing too much of one and not the other, and he couldn’t focus enough to fix it. He knew he had to fix it, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it. It was too much -- everything was too much. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stand it. It was too much. He couldn’t do it.

“Logan?”

That was Thomas. Focus on Thomas. Answer Thomas.

He couldn’t answer Thomas.

The edge of the bed dipped. “Logan -- hey -- I need you to listen to me, alright?” His voice was gentle. “Breathe in for four seconds, hold for seven seconds, and breathe out for eight.”

Logan tried to follow the steps -- he tried so hard. He couldn’t do it. He was choking. “I -- I --” A sob escaped his lips instead of coherent words.

“Alright. We’re gonna try something else, okay? Focus on me, Logan. I know you can do this. You know your room, right? What are five things you can touch?”

Logan knew one. “B-blanket.” Associate. “Bed.” Keep going. “P-pillow.” He kept track with his fingers. Using his brain was too hard. “Sheets.” He stretched out his arm to where he assumed Thomas was. “You.”

Thomas held Logan’s searching hand. “That’s good. You’re doing great. What are four things you can see?”

He peeked his head over his blanket cocoon. “Wall.” Expand. “P-poster.” Elaborate. “Th-the Doctor Who one. And the Winnie th-the Pooh one.” One more, “You.”

Thomas smiled. It erased the concern on his face for a brief second. “Three things you can hear.”

“My breathing.” It wasn’t as heavy anymore, though still a bit ragged. “My alarm clock -- but only in the morning.” It was easier to think -- to talk. “And your voice.”

“Two things you can smell.”

“The cookies in the oven.” Things were better. “The flour you dropped on your shirt.”

Thomas glanced down at the rather large white patch clinging to the front of his shirt. “That’s kind of embarrassing... Anyway, one thing you can taste.”

“Nothing that would be sanitary.”

Thomas chuckled. “That’s a safe answer.” He squeezed Logan’s hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Not like I’m dying.” He sat up. His limbs were wobbly. “How did you know how to do that?”

He shrugged. “You learn a thing or two when you get older.”

Fair enough, Logan supposed. He crawled closer to Thomas and put his head on his arm. It felt better to be near him. “What’s going to happen now?”

Thomas sighed. “We’re going to have to leave.”

“Right now?”

He didn’t say anything, but that was an answer in itself.

“Oh.”

He squeezed Logan’s hand again. “I’ll help you pack.”

They were allowed to bring whatever they could carry. Their social worker didn’t help. He made it seem like they needed to leave as fast as possible. Logan didn’t want to leave at all. But they left. It wasn’t until the house was fading from view that he realized Cara’s guitar was still in his closet.

* * *

Their emergency foster family was nice enough, but Logan was more glad about getting to stay with Thomas longer. It was an older man and woman. There were pictures of them with two kids. A boy and a girl. Logan assumed it was their children. He noticed a newer picture of the girl in a college graduation gown. There was another one with the boy in a suit and a woman next to him wearing white. He didn’t know why they’d want to be foster parents when they had their own kids -- emergency foster parents no less. A position where you get traumatized kids dropped off at your doorstep under short notice.

But they were nice. They let Logan and Thomas be alone in their room. And that was another thing Logan was glad for. Sharing a room. He didn’t think he’d be able to be apart from Thomas.

They sat on a bed together, not saying much at first. It was a rough month.

Logan had  _ The Phantom Tollbooth _ clutched tightly to his chest. He was afraid to put it down. He didn’t want to forget it like another important item of his. “I left my guitar behind,” he muttered after the long stretch of silence.

Thomas paused. “I’m sure we’ll get it back.”

Logan didn’t know how to respond.

“Do you wanna see something?” Thomas asked with a small smile.

“Sure.”

Thomas hopped off the bed. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a large photo album.

Logan couldn’t stop the grin growing on his face. “You brought the photo album?”

He shrugged. “I just felt like I needed to grab something.” He sat back on the bed. The album was meant to mimic a thick book. It was dark blue and squishy with the edges being worn down from use. It was mostly baby pictures of both boys, which made it their mother’s favorite album. There were other pictures, but mainly baby pictures. “Wanna look through it?”

“Yeah, I like making fun of you.”

Thomas scoffed. “Whatever. Don’t act like you don’t have any embarrassing pictures in here.” He flipped it open to the first page.

The very first picture was of Thomas and their mother. She sat in a hospital bed with her newborn in her arms, smiling softly at the camera. She looked a lot younger here. Like the same age as Thomas and his friends. It made Logan realize that he didn’t actually know how old his mother was when she was first pregnant. He never noticed how much younger she looked compared to other mothers.

“She looks like a kid,” Logan couldn’t help but mutter.

Thomas frowned a bit, eyes glued on her face. “She  _ was.” _ But he didn’t elaborate.

Regardless, the first few pages of the album were of Thomas. Their mother would pop up every once in a while with a large smile that made Logan’s heart ache, but it mainly focused on Thomas. There was his birthdays, his first day of school, him just being a little kid. And then there was another picture taken in a hospital. A story frozen in time.

Thomas sat on the hospital bed next to his mother, hanging close to her arm. They both smiled down at the little bundle she held. A newborn Logan. They gazed at him like he was the most precious thing in the world.

“I forgot how tiny you were,” Thomas commented with a hint of amusement.

“I’m still tiny,” Logan replied bitterly. He was one of the shortest kids in his grade. Cara was half a head taller than him.

“Well, when you were a baby you were a lot smaller than you should have been.”

“I was?”

“You were born a few weeks early.”

“I was?”

Thomas laughed a bit at the repeated phrase in the exact same cadence. “Yeah. But maybe you just got stuck with the short genes. You were a healthy size by the time you were one.”

Oh, lame. He was going to be short forever.

“I guess we won’t know for sure until you’re all grown up.”

That was less lame.

Thomas turned the page. His hand froze on it. There was a picture of their dad. It was one of the only ones Logan had ever seen of him; he smiled at the camera with Thomas in his lap. It was a small, polite smile. It wasn’t a large grin like their mother’s. Or a radiant beam like Thomas’s. It was subdued. It didn’t bring as much joy with it. Logan wondered if that’s what he always smiled like, or if that was something he did for pictures.

“Do you think he’ll take us in?” Logan brought himself to ask.

“I don’t know.” He turned the page.

On the fourth day, they finally had a permanent solution. They had a new social worker come in — a woman named Miss Janelle Wilton — to tell them that their father gave up legal custody. He didn’t want anything to do with them. The only thing to do now was put them into foster care.

And once again Logan found himself not understanding. He never had a dad before. He wasn’t familiar with the concept. But weren’t dads… supposed to want their children? Why didn’t their father want them? He noticed Thomas get angry at the news. Thomas was rarely ever angry. But the moment he heard that their dad gave up on them, he could barely restrain his fury.

They were going to be placed with foster families tomorrow. 

Families. 

More than one.

“I’m sorry,” Miss Wilton said. She seemed genuine about it. “We were unable to find a household willing to take both of you.”

Even though Logan knew that would happen, it still hurt to hear. This would be his last night with Thomas. Maybe ever. And he didn’t know what to do.

“I can’t believe him,” Thomas exploded as soon as they were alone in their room. It startled Logan. “He didn’t even want to try.”

Logan didn’t know what to say. He had never seen Thomas so angry before. He didn’t want him to be angry, but he didn’t know what to say to make it better. Unlike him, Thomas knew what it was like to have a dad. He knew how dads were supposed to be. Apparently, dads were supposed to try.

Thomas began to pace the length of the room, clearly doing it in an attempt to cool off.

Logan crawled onto his temporary bed and watched him. He still didn’t know what to do. He ran his thumb along the spine of the book in his arms. “Did you think that he would?” He got himself to speak at last.

“I don’t know — maybe. I hoped…” He sighed. “I wanted to believe there was at least  _ something _ good in him.”

“What do you mean by that?”

He paused, eyeing Logan briefly as some of his anger escaped. “I —” He sighed again — “I never told Mom about it, but I ran into Dad last year.” He ignored the wide-eyed look Logan gave him. “Honestly, he seemed more surprised to see  _ me _ than I was to see  _ him. _ I had no idea why. It wasn’t as if I expected him to be there, either.” He crossed his arms, his anger reigniting. “I was out with Valerie and Terrence — not exactly a witch hunt — yet he acted as if there was a reason I was there. Evidently, he didn’t want the kid he left ruining his date.”

Logan caught onto the bitterness in his words but decided not to comment.

“I tried to be nice to him. I tried to see the best in him. He's my dad so he had to at  _ least _ be nice. But then he told me why he left. And it was stupid and selfish, and it was all because —" He cut himself off, catching sight of Logan. And his face softened a bit.

He tightened his hold on his book. "Because what?"

His face softened further, and he sighed yet again, his anger going out with it. "It doesn't matter." He sat beside Logan. "It was a dumb reason, anyway."

"Well, I don't think there's a smart reason to run away from your kids and wife."

Thomas snorted. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Later that night, neither of them could sleep. Dread hung in the air between them. The knowledge that they would be separated tomorrow stung with a bitter, almost palpable taste. Rather than stew in it alone, Logan decided to slip out of his bed and into Thomas's. Thomas turned his head to look at him.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, but you’re just a baby boy,” his voice tapered off into the ‘I’m-talking-to-someone-way-younger-than-me’ tone — which Logan always loathed. And Thomas knew this. He only ever did it to be annoying. To add to this, he kept cooing about his baby brother. Referring to Logan directly as his baby or little brother was another thing he did to be annoying. He wrapped his arms around Logan and squeezed him tight, continuing his baby talk.

“Noo,” Logan whined. He tried to wriggle out but found he had no room. It didn’t help that he still had his book between his arms. On instinct, he almost called out for his mom for assistance, but instead he said, “Stop it. I’ll bite you.”

Thomas sighed as if it was the most ridiculous quest to befall him. “Fine.” But he didn’t let go. Logan decided not to comment on this. “You know,” he started softly after a moment, “whatever happens tomorrow, I’ll make sure to find my way back to you.”

Rather than risk bursting into tears coming up with a response, Logan buried his face into the crook of Thomas’s neck. He didn’t want to leave. Thomas was all he had left. After that, what else could anyone take from him? The few possessions he was able to grab before he left the house? What did those things mean in the end? He didn’t want  _ things _ he wanted  _ people. _ He could lose everything he ever owned, but as long as he had Cara, or his mom, or Thomas, then it didn’t matter. But that wasn’t his circumstance.

“Are you holding something?”

They both moved away enough for Logan to show his book. “I don’t wanna put it down,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Did you want to read it?”

“Um…”

“Or do you want me to read it?”

He nodded and handed the book over.

Thomas turned on the lamp beside the bed. He positioned himself so that Logan was still close, but he was able to hold the book with both hands. “‘There was once a boy named Milo who didn't know what to do with himself — not just sometimes, but always.’”

* * *

Before Logan left, he grabbed a photo from the photo album. He did it when Thomas wasn’t looking. Like it was some secret. But he didn’t want to be told he couldn’t take one or be judged on what he decided to take. He took the first picture he saw. Thomas’s fourth birthday. They were sitting at the dining table. Thomas was on his mother’s lap with his usual wide smile. She had her chin resting on the top of his head with sparkling eyes. The cake was decorated with blue frosting and topped with a number four candle.

He put it in his book.

He didn’t talk the whole way to his foster family. He didn’t even talk when he got there. There was no amount of coercing or gentle words that would get him to open his mouth. He just held his book close to his chest and kept his eyes cast on the ground. They left him alone soon enough. Not that it mattered.

His room was small. Light peach walls empty of any personality. Logan supposed he was meant to fix that, but he wasn’t going to. He didn’t want to get comfortable here. He didn’t want to stay. He wanted to be home. He wanted Thomas. He wanted his mom.

But there was nothing to be done about that.

When April 24th came around, Logan felt absolutely miserable. He was alone. He wanted his mom. He wanted to see his brother. It was Thomas's eighteenth birthday. His mom said eighteenth birthdays were special. It was meant to be special, but now they weren’t even together. He wondered if Thomas was doing okay. Was he at least having a good birthday?

Logan rolled on his side and stared at the empty wall. "Happy birthday," he whispered. The first words he said since being separated. And no one was there to hear them.

On the other side of town, Thomas laid in bed, absolutely miserable. His foster parents asked if he wanted to celebrate his birthday, which was nice, but he declined the offer. He didn't want anything to do with his birthday. This would be the first birthday without his mom's homemade cake. The first birthday without Logan jumping on his bed to wake him up in the morning because "it's your birthday, you gotta be up early!".

He missed them.

He regretted taking those little things for granted. He'd do anything to hear Logan run down the hall and burst through his door, interrupting his sleep. He wanted more than anything to see his mom act like her cake was still a surprise even though he always got the same one for seventeen straight years. But he didn't have that. He was alone.

* * *

Two years.

Logan stayed in the foster care system for two years. During that period, he had been forced to move houses a few times. Not as much as other kids, he was sure, but more than twice was still a lot. Many families were nice. Others not so much. The people that weren’t as nice were the ones that got rid of him the fastest. They told Miss Wilton he was a problem child. He was difficult to deal with.

Well, Logan didn’t know what they expected. He had his family ripped away from him. It wasn’t as if he was going to get over that with their faux generosity. Besides, all he did was not talk. Apparently, adults didn’t like that.

Miss Wilton soon came to realize that Logan wasn’t the problem. Anytime someone complained after her discovery, she would give the foster family a fake sweet smile and apologize on Logan’s behalf, then be on her way with Logan in tow. Logan noticed that she gave a lot of adults fake smiles. Her real smiles she gave to Logan and other kids.

She could also be snarky, so Logan ended up liking her.

The last family she found for him he stayed with the longest. They were more understanding than the others, which was a relief. But those last few months were filled with something a bit more important.

Thomas was trying to get legal guardianship.

It was tough and long, and Logan had never been so impatient in his life. Miss Wilton took him to the final court decision. And he almost cried right then and there. He saw Valerie and Terrence. Familiar faces that he hadn't seen in two years. Faces that followed him through his childhood. He didn't realize how much he missed them.

And then he saw Thomas. They stared at each other with wide, unbelieving eyes. Thomas smiled. A small one, but a smile nonetheless. Logan was reminded of home.

After that, the day was a blur. He remembered it being stressful. Of course it was. Strangers were deciding his future. Adults he didn’t know were choosing if he got to stay with Thomas or not. Putting it that way made it seem so silly. Thomas was his brother. Why shouldn’t they be able to live together? They’ve been together his whole life. It wouldn’t have been fair to come to any other decision.

Thankfully, whatever deity had forced them into this situation decided to side with them that day.

Miss Wilton showed genuine excitement and relief at the brothers being together again. She was happy that their permanent home would be with each other. Because she was happy, Logan knew he should have been happy too, but he just… couldn’t believe it. Not yet. Since the moment Cara left, his entire life had been going downhill. There was no way it would pick up now. He was half convinced the universe would pull a mean trick and he’d be ripped away from Thomas again.

But nothing like that happened. Miss Wilton helped Logan pack his things and took him to Thomas’s place. It was surreal to hear that Thomas had his own apartment. When last they left each other, Thomas hadn’t even begun to consider moving out.

When they got there, Miss Wilton explained some things that Logan tuned out. He caught a snippet about someone coming to check on them sometime soon, and maybe she said something about Logan, but he didn’t pay attention. He was too busy gazing around the room. There were a few things he recognized from the house — the couch, the dining table, the TV, the pictures — and he wondered what else had made it. Logically, he knew not everything could fit in here, but part of him still hoped. He liked being surrounded by familiarity.

Not long after, Miss Wilton said her final goodbye. Logan was sort of sad about it. She had been a constant presence in his life for two whole years. But he assumed her saying goodbye was a good thing. It meant that he had a permanent home to stay in.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Miss Wilton said before she left for good. “But I hope we never see each other again.”

Logan agreed.

She gave him one last, genuine smile. Then she left.

“She seemed nice,” Thomas said after a moment.

It then occurred to Logan that Thomas didn’t spend as much time with her as he did. To respond, Logan simply nodded.

There was a slight twitch of a frown at the nonverbal response, but he masked it with a smile. “Well, come on. Let me show you to your room.”

Logan trailed after him without a word.

Thomas talked for both of them on the short way there. He mentioned how he tried to get as much stuff from the house as possible, but he couldn’t get everything. That didn’t mean he didn’t try, though. “Valerie and Terrence helped out a lot. Oh — and Joan. They’re a co-worker of mine and they live a few apartments down. I’m sure they’d love to meet you — well — after you get settled.” He opened one of the doors.

One of the first things Logan saw almost made him drop his book. Cara’s guitar. It was resting on his bed, waiting for him. Before he rushed over to it, he decided to look around. It was almost like he never had to leave. His posters were on the walls, his little bookcase was there — even his bed sheets were the same. He dropped his book on his nightstand, finally feeling safe enough to let it go, and he opened the guitar case. It looked the same as when he left it.

That’s when reality started to sink in.

This was real. Logan was here with Thomas. He was allowed to stay here. There wouldn’t be any more strangers he had to live with. There wouldn’t be anymore wishing — begging — every night for Thomas to come back like he promised, hoping he hadn’t been forgotten or left behind. This was real. And he was here. Thomas didn’t break his promise at all. He found his way back.

Without realizing it, Logan started crying. He was home. He ran to Thomas and hugged him. They almost crashed to the ground from the sheer force, but Thomas was able to keep them upright. “I missed you,” he said at last. “I missed you so much.”

Thomas hugged him back, holding him close. “I missed you, too.”

* * *

Despite being together, things were still difficult. Money-wise at least. Thomas wondered how the hell his mom ran a house with three people when he had a hard enough time in an apartment with two. She must have been magic. Or maybe Thomas just sucked.

He tried his best, really, but that didn’t make things easier. Sometimes things were difficult to overcome despite a positive attitude. Everything costed money. And that was the worst. He had to pay for food, clothes, gas, rent — and that was just the basics. That didn’t count the school supplies Logan needed, or the phone bills, or the cable bills, or all the other bills that seemed to exist.

There wasn’t ever much spare money lying around. Almost everything Thomas earned went to pay for something. He didn’t have much to save, and that didn’t seem like it would change anytime soon.

He tried not to let Logan know how stressful this all was. The poor kid had been through so much already, he didn’t need to worry about his older brother. He didn’t like to think of it as lying, but he sort of… stretched… the truth. A little bit. Enough to be believable. Logan was a smart kid. He’d figure it out if things started to not add up.

So Thomas never let it get to that point. Did he have to get two jobs? Yes. Was he unable to work anywhere better because he only had a high school diploma? Yes. Did he know that having a higher education would get him a better job? Yes. Was he going to punch the next person in the throat who said that to him? Probably. He wanted to scream that he couldn’t afford to get a dang higher education because he had to raise his brother and put a roof over his head. There wasn’t enough freaking time in the day to earn money and go to school.

But he didn’t do that. He held his tongue and thanked that person for such  _ wonderful _ advice that a million other people have said before.

People sucked sometimes.

Regardless, Thomas did the same things he always did. He took Logan to school, he went to work, he cooked dinner, he went to work again, then he slept. Interlaced, of course, was paying for things that needed to be paid whenever it was needed. One day, he noticed something. It was a small thing; he would have missed it if he wasn't paying attention.

"Logan, are you having trouble seeing?" They were stopped at a light on their way to Logan's school. It was way early, and he was super tired, but this seemed kind of important.

"Uh…" Logan stopped squinting out the window. "No."

That wasn't believable, but he dropped the subject for the time being. It wasn’t until later that night that he decided to push it.

“Hey, bear,” Thomas called from the kitchen. He grabbed two identical boxes of noodles out of the cupboard. From far enough away, they were hard to tell apart. Thomas sometimes mixed them up at a glance. “What kind of pasta do you want?” He stood at the doorway and presented the boxes.

Logan, who had been sitting cross-legged on the couch doing homework, looked up and immediately grimaced. “Um… the one on the right.”

“Which one is that?”

“Uh —” Thomas could tell he was trying not to squint — “the good one.”

Thomas lowered the boxes with a frown. “You can’t see it, can you?”

“I can  _ see _ it. Just… it’s a little blurry.”

“How much is a little?”

Logan hesitated, tapping his pencil on his notebook. “I can make out the shapes but I can’t read it.”

Thomas frowned further. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I didn’t wanna bother you.” He focused on the papers before him. “You’re always so busy, and I know money gets tight sometimes, so I figured if I didn’t tell you it wouldn’t be a big deal.”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about that.” Thomas sat beside him. “I’m the adult here and it’s my responsibility. We have insurance for a reason, you big goof.” He threw his arm around him and pulled him in for a side hug. “Next time something’s wrong or you have a problem, tell me, okay?”

Logan gave him a small smile. “Okay.”

* * *

A new student entered Logan’s grade near the end of the school year. Logan only found out because they shared the same English class. He thought it was unlucky to join a new school so late in the year, but that wasn’t any of his business. Not like the new kid would care about his opinion anyway.

Unfortunately, the teacher decided to sit the new student beside him — even though there were two other seats available. Logan cursed his bad luck and kept his head down. He didn’t want to interact with anyone. Ever. He hadn’t made another friend since Cara left.

Unfortunately again, this kid didn’t care.

“Hey,” he said with a charming smile. “I’m Percival.”

* * *

So clearly Logan was gay.

Who knew.

He found and read different books on different sexualities to try to understand his confusion. He felt most comfortable identifying as gay, but the tiny section on asexuality in one of the books was always in the back of his mind. Okay, so, it was still sort of confusing, but saying he was gay felt like a good fit. At least for now.

When he mentioned it to Thomas off-hand, he said — and Logan swears he’ll never let him live this down — “Oh, shit, me too.”

It caught him so off guard that he laughed until he cried. Never, in his entire life, had he ever heard Thomas curse. And the first time he did was because they talked about being gay. Somehow that seemed very fitting.

But the tiny, little factoid that Logan left out — just a  _ small _ detail — was that he and Percival were dating. Telling Thomas he was gay? Yeah, sure, easy. Telling Thomas he had a boyfriend? No. Nope. That would be a disaster. He’d probably freak out about it. In more than one way.

So that was his little secret for the time being. Until he was ready.

Well, it turned out the joke was on him because he accidentally let it slip about four months into their relationship. Like a dang fool.

He didn’t mean to. At all. But once it was out he couldn’t take it back. As predicted, Thomas freaked out. He demanded to know the details at the same time he tried to give advice. It was embarrassing and unnecessary and Logan would have preferred to sink into the earth than experience any second of this onslaught. Worst of all, Thomas wanted to meet him.

It wasn’t that he thought Percival wasn’t someone to meet his family — he was very sweet — it was just the thought of Thomas being an embarrassing older brother. Which he was. If he let them anywhere near each other he’d probably end up dying of embarrassment.

So he tried to push it off at first. It wasn’t necessary right now. Wait a little longer. But it turned out that Percival was on Thomas’s side. Logan felt betrayed.

They (well, with great reluctance on Logan’s part) settled on meeting up for lunch on the weekend. Logan insisted that Thomas bring Joan so that he could have someone to talk to in the inevitable event that Thomas started being embarrassing. He knew it would happen no matter how many times Thomas said it wouldn’t.

“Well that was fun,” Percival mentioned after the whole ordeal was over. They were by themselves now, walking through a park to Percival’s house.

Logan rolled his eyes. Predictively, Thomas had an embarrassing older brother moment. Thank God Joan was there to reel him back a bit. “That’s easy for you to say, you don’t live with him.”

Percival laughed. “Still. We should do it again sometime.”

Logan refrained from rolling his eyes again. “I’ll have to think about that.”

Then Percival stopped. He looked down at Logan with an expression he couldn’t quite read. Logan opened his mouth to say something, but he didn’t get the chance. Percival ducked down and captured his lips.

He wanted to suck in a sharp breath of air — an automatic response of surprise — but he didn’t. At least, he didn’t think so. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. It was sudden. A pressure on his mouth he wasn’t familiar with. The new, strange feeling of someone else’s lips. It was like fire, and teasing, and strawberry lemonade. And then it was over.

Percival pulled back, but their lips still brushed together when he whispered, “You’re beautiful.”

His chest fluttered.

* * *

Logan was sixteen when he realized something was… off. He didn’t notice where the feeling was coming from at first. Things between Thomas and him were fine. They weren’t currently struggling for money. All of Thomas’s friends were doing okay. What was left? Why did he have a bad feeling looming over his shoulder?

He wished he could have said that he pieced it together quickly. He wished he could have said he narrowed it down after going through every single option. But he didn't. He… he just didn't.

He didn't even know. It happened so subtly — like a pot heating bit by bit unbeknownst to the poor frog. Except Logan was the frog in this scenario.

He couldn't tell you what the first hint that the water was boiling was. It wasn't as easy as saying, "it started when he did  _ this" _ because it all seemed okay. Everything was okay. He thought it was at least.

And then, all at once, it was very not okay.

Approaching their first year of being together, Percival wasn't as sweet anymore. Well, he was. But not all the time. Sometimes he said things that were a little too mean. Sometimes he brought up things he knew Logan was insecure about. Sometimes he didn't even seem like the same person.

But it was fine. He always apologized or made it up in some way. And Logan always forgave him. Again. And again. And again.

He felt like an idiot to not notice the pattern.

From there it only escalated. Suddenly, it felt like everything Logan did was criticized. Nothing he did was good enough or worth the effort to look at.

"Anyone can play guitar. It's easy."

Logan was inclined to agree, but coming from someone who didn't know how to play any instrument — let alone a guitar — felt belittling. It completely ignored his years of practice. Still, Logan shoved the guitar in his closet.

"Why does it matter that you won that scholarship?"

He wanted to say that Thomas was proud of him. But he didn't. Thomas was proud of anything that Logan did, though. It must not have been that impressive.

"I hate when you wear that shirt."

He kept it at the bottom of his drawer.

"Remember when you failed that math test?"

He studied every free minute he had.

"Your laugh is annoying."

He tried not to laugh again.

The first time Percival hit him was a surprise. It sort of seemed like an accident, but Logan was never sure. He wasn't sure about a lot. But even Percival seemed a little shocked after he did it. Logan wondered, if he had spoken up then, would it have ended there? Did his silence on the matter convince Percival he could get away with it? He didn't know.

It was almost two years into their relationship. He must have done something wrong.

Logan shuffled into the apartment. The place where Percival hit him the previous day started to appear a lot more visible as throughout school. To add to his bad luck, Thomas wasn't in his room. He tried to slip by but was caught before he made it to the hallway.

“Hey, Logan,” Thomas chirped. “Come here it feels like I haven't seen you all day.”

Logan hesitated. He could say he wasn't feeling well, or straight out refuse to turn around, but that wouldn't work out in the end. He couldn't hide this forever. Taking a deep, silent breath, Logan turned around.

The smile fell right off Thomas's face. “Oh, my God.” He rushed over to Logan. “Oh God, bear, what happened to you?” His hands hovered around Logan's face as if he wasn't quite sure what to do. It made Logan a little nervous.

His hands soon found their place cradling Logan's head. “What happened to your face, Logan?”

The anguished expression of his brother almost made Logan want to tell the truth. Almost. “I, uh, I fell.” That couldn't have been believable. 

“Please tell me the truth, bear.” Thomas furrowed his brows in worry. “Unless you fell down some stairs, I don't think your face should look like this.”

Logan pulled himself away. “I-it's nothing. I just fell.”

“Logan —”

“I'm fine, Thomas.” He retreated to his room. 

But that statement became less and less true with time. As the injury on his face changed colors to a more noticeable bruise, Logan found himself with others. The new ones were places less obvious and often hidden with articles of clothing.

All the while Logan tried to convince himself everything would be fine. Percival was a knight of the round table — a hero from Arthurian legend. But if that were true… then why did it feel so wrong to be near him? People don't flinch when the hero gets mad. People don't cower when a knight goes to see them. All the fear made Logan miss the talking. It had become subtle insults toward Logan recently, but that was better than fearing another injury.

Logan held on for a few more days. Each day he came home more tired than the last, with Thomas increasing his worry, until one day he couldn't take it.

He hauled himself through the front door. He dropped his backpack on the ground and went straight for Thomas.

Thomas was looking down at some papers but glanced up when he heard the noise. He gasped and dropped everything to be by Logan. “Are you okay?”

Logan wiped his tears and shook his head. “I'm sorry.”

“What are you sorry for, bear?” Thomas tried to reach a hand out to Logan but stopped when he flinched. “What happened?”

“Percy, he — he —” Logan wrapped his arms around himself. Sobs were choking him. “I-I didn't want to do it, Thomas. I didn't w-want to. H-he tried to make me. I was scared. I-I ran away — I ran away from him.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I'm sorry. P-please don't be m-mad. I'm sorry.”

Thomas didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to do. God, he was suddenly aware of how young they both were. He didn’t have infinite wisdom or a sense of direction like a parent should. He was barely going to be twenty-one next month. Something terrible must have been going on and Thomas wasn’t equipped to handle it.

“L-Logan, hey.” Thomas kept his hands to himself. “Let’s try to calm down, alright? I’m not mad at you, kiddo, I have nothing to be mad at you for.”

“B-but I —”

“Shh, it’s okay. We can sit down and talk, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

They sat down on the couch together. Logan hugged himself like he would fall apart if he stopped and Thomas tried to get him to breathe properly. It took a bit, but they got there. At least enough to not be so alarming. Then Logan told him everything. He showed him every bruise, mentioned every bitter conversation, and even what transpired today.

“We were just talking,” Logan explained. He was no longer crying, but the effects of it still altered his voice. “Everything was fine. It felt like things had gone back to normal — he was sweet and told me nice things, but apparently, there was an ulterior motive.” He tightened his hands into fists. “He wanted… he wanted to…” He sucked in a breath. “He wanted to do something I didn’t. I tried stopping him, but he wouldn’t listen. I, I didn’t know what else to do so I ran.”

Thomas didn’t know what to say. What was there  _ to _ say? How do you even respond to that? This was his little brother. It wasn’t happening to anyone else, it wasn’t a story he heard about someone, it was happening right here — and it was his  _ brother. _ He couldn’t imagine Logan going through this that whole time. He didn’t even want to think about what caused him to run all the way home. It was all so… awful. And he felt awful about not saying anything, or noticing sooner, or —

“It’s okay.” This wasn’t about him. It was about Logan. “Sometimes the best thing to do is get out of there as fast as you can. You made a smart decision.”

“It doesn’t feel like one.” Logan curled into himself.

Thomas pushed down the sick feeling in his stomach. “It is. He wasn’t listening to you so you did the only other thing you could think of. You got somewhere safe. It’s okay to run away sometimes, Logan — especially if you’re in danger.”

Logan remained silent.

Oh, Thomas wanted to hug him so bad, but he refrained from doing so.

The next day, Percival knocked on the door and asked to see Logan. Thomas tightened his grip on the doorknob to stop from doing something he’d regret. “He’s not here,” he responded in his usual cheerful tone despite the fact his blood was boiling. “He went down to the library to grab something. Would you like to leave a message?”

Percival smiled politely. “No thanks. I think I’ll just meet him down there.”

“Sure thing.” Thomas resisted the urge to slam the door in his face.

Logan was frozen in the kitchen. The only thing separating him from the front door was a wall. He didn’t dare to even breathe until he saw Thomas in the doorway. Before either of them could think to say anything, Logan’s phone started to ring. He felt his blood run cold.

“Don’t answer it,” Thomas said softly.

He didn’t.

That wasn’t an isolated incident, as it turned out. Percival came back the next day to ask where Logan had been — claimed he was worried because his calls were going unanswered. Thomas handled it with surprising grace, having a believable lie at the ready, but it wasn’t enough. Percival kept calling and when that inevitable day came where Logan had to go back to school, he couldn’t avoid him. And Thomas wasn’t there to help.

Nothing happened besides subtle anger and vague threats. Logan knew that the only thing saving him was being in public. He knew that once school was out, that there would be little time to get away. Percival wasn’t patient. So he sent Thomas a text to pick him up right as school ended. It wasn’t as if he would say no — he was wary to let Logan go to school at all — but Logan was still scared. Thomas was already doing so much for him. He didn’t want to push the limit.

**Thomas:** _I could get you right now_

As much as that appealed to Logan, he couldn’t. He was already making Thomas miss work to pick him up  _ after _ school. Having him pick him up  _ now _ would just be worse. He declined the offer, insisting he was fine. For now.

Once the final bell rang, Logan was the first one out of the classroom door. He wasn’t normally one to be so eager to leave, but right now he wanted to get home as soon as possible.

A hand grabbed his shoulder once he spotted Thomas’s car. "Leaving so soon?"

Every muscle in Logan's body froze. He let Percival spin him around to see his displeased face.

"I haven't seen you in a while," he continued. "The least you can do is come over so we can catch up on lost time. I was wondering what happened to you."

"I was busy," Logan mumbled. He tried to stand his ground, but Percival was more determined than him.

"Well, you're not now. So come with me. We have a lot to talk about."

Logan couldn't respond. He couldn't move away.

"Hey, Logan!"

Oh, thank Christ.

They turned to see Thomas running up to them. "We gotta help Joan set up their place for Talyn, remember?"

Logan had no idea how Thomas could lie on the spot like that despite hating lying so much.

"But Logan was just saying how he was going to stop by real quick." His fingers dug into Logan's shoulder. "Right?"

"Sorry, but this has to be done by — like — yesterday." He offered his hand out to Logan, who took it gratefully. "Maybe some other time."

Percival relented his hold. "Sure. Some other time."

Thomas flashed him a smile and dragged Logan back to his car.

Before they even got to the apartment, Thomas was already devising a plan to keep Percival far away. First thing first, Logan needed to be transferred to another school. There was no way he was spending another second of forced interaction with his abuser. Second, there needed to be a phone number change.

Logan listened to his near-ranting as they walked up to their apartment. He didn't have any input. What was there to say? This was a sucky situation from all angles.

"You'll have to stay with Valerie until this whole thing blows over."

That caught Logan's attention. Panic hijacked his senses, and words were leaving his mouth before he could stop them. "No! Please don't leave me somewhere. I don't want to be away from you."

"Logan —"

"Please. I, I can't be alone again. I'll do anything. Whatever you want — I'll do it."

"Oh, no, Logan —"

"Don't leave. Please. Please don't leave. How will I know when you'll be back? What if I have to get moved around again? What if you're gone for good this time and I don't see you again?"

"Logan, stop." Thomas cupped his face with his hands. Firm, but gentle. Just to get him to stop his erratic movements and focus on something. "I'm not going to abandon you, okay? I'm…" He studied Logan's face. "Alright. We'll both go to Valerie's. I'll have Joan keep an eye on the place." He wiped Logan's cheeks of the tears he didn't even notice he shed. "I'm not leaving you, bear."

For the first time in several days, Logan hugged Thomas.

* * *

“Well, since you just fell for me you should probably know my name, at least. I’m Patton.”

* * *

Logan was nineteen when he met Patton. He was nineteen when they started dating. And he had never felt… more like a kid. Patton was silly, and kind, and loved dumb puns. Whether he knew it or not, he was helping Logan unlearn everything Percival taught him. It wouldn’t be perfect. There would still be emotional scars that would never heal, but he would be able to function again. He wouldn’t start every day in fear of what would happen. Patton made things okay.

They had been dating for exactly a year when they kissed for the first time.

It was in the evening. Logan was planning on spending the night so they were in Patton’s room (Logan had to answer at least twenty different texts from Thomas to assure him that he was fine and he’d call if anything happened). It felt like sleeping over at Cara’s again; there wasn’t much of a plan to go to sleep, just to have fun. At around midnight, Patton sprung up from his spot on the floor and excitedly claimed to have an idea.

Logan didn’t even get the chance to process what happened before Patton was searching through his closet. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.” He pulled a box out and grabbed an even smaller box from within it. “My parents sent this to me before they found out I took in Emile and D. And, well, you know what happened after that.” He took out a globe-like projector and plugged it in before shutting off the lights.

“Patton —” the rest of his words died on his lips when Patton turned it on. Dozens of specks showed up on the ceiling. Like someone took a paintbrush and flung white paint across the room. Then he noticed that some of those specks weren’t random. They were constellations. These were stars.

“That’s a lot better than I thought it would look,” Patton laughed. He sent a grin over to Logan. “What do you think?”

Logan tore his eyes away from the ceiling. He tried to bite back a smile, but he couldn’t help it. “I think it’s wonderful.”

Patton gave him that look again. Like he mattered more than anything in the world. He did it a lot, but Logan still didn’t understand why. He continued to study Logan’s face before asking softly, “Can I kiss you?”

Logan’s breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded against his chest, yet he still nodded. He practically melted when it happened.

It was gentle. A soft presence against his mouth that was different than anything before. The unique, strange feeling of someone else’s lips. It was like fresh chocolate chip cookies, and the Jabberwocky poem, and guessing the names of random dogs on the street. And then it was over.

It took Logan a second to open his eyes again.

Patton was a breath away, his eyes sparkling under the synthetic stars. “Was that too much?” He backed up a fraction more.

Logan pulled him in for another kiss.

* * *

Patton wasn’t supposed to know that Logan could play the guitar. Truth be told, he hadn’t touched it in a while. But he opened his closet to put something away, and there was the case. He didn’t think much about it; it had been in there so long already that he ignored it.

But Patton didn’t.

He spotted it and gasped so loud that Logan felt his heart shoot to his throat.

“I didn’t know you could play guitar!”

Oh crap. Logan glared at the case like it made its presence known on purpose. “Sort of.”

“Can you play something for me? Please?” He brought out his puppy eyes and kind smile. “Just one song.”

“I-I don’t know. I’m really not that good.”

“Normally, I take your word for things, but not for this. I have to hear for myself.”

Logan held back a grimace. Patton was determined. He may drop it now, but he’d bring it up another time, and another until eventually, Logan caved. “Fine.” He grabbed the case, ignoring the pang it sent to his chest at the thin layer of dust. “What do you want to hear?”

Patton resembled a puppy trying to hold in his excitement. “Something simple.”

Sure. Simple. He could do that. He sat beside Patton after taking the guitar out. It looked the same way he remembered. A bit older, and out of tune, but still the same. He almost forgot why he stopped playing it. As he placed his hands over the strings he remembered. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. As his panic rose, he tried to formulate a way to back out, but then he noticed Patton giving him a patient smile.

He couldn’t tell Patton why. That could change everything.

It was just one song. He could do that. He pushed all his fear far, far down and started strumming.

_ Hey there, Delilah  
_ _ What's it like in New York City?  
_ _ I'm a thousand miles away  
_ _ But, girl, tonight you look so pretty  
_ _ Yes, you do _

He kept his head down the whole time. He couldn’t bring himself to look up as he noticed every single mistake he made. He half expected to be stopped when he got to the second verse, but that didn’t happen. Patton didn’t interrupt him or utter a single word. Not until he finished, at least.

“That was so good!” He clapped. “You’re amazing.”

Logan’s cheeks turned hot. “Not really. It’s just a guitar. Anyone can do that.”

“Even if that were true, not everyone can play and sing at the same time.”

Well. Maybe.

Later, after Patton left, Logan saw Thomas sitting on the kitchen counter. “So I heard you serenading Patton earlier,” he muttered with a smirk around his coffee mug.

“Shut up.”

* * *

If someone told Logan that he'd end up marrying Patton, he would have been convinced they were lying. There was no way Patton would stay with him that long. Patton was wonderful, and sweet, and caring, and good, and Logan was just… Logan. There was nothing spectacular about that.

But as it turned out, Patton thought he was the most wonderful thing to grace his presence.

They  _ did _ get married.

Logan couldn't believe that it happened. He was in disbelief the whole day. It didn't sink in that Patton chose  _ him _ of all people until that night when they gazed up at the artificial stars on the ceiling. This was real. Patton wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. He could have had anyone else but he chose Logan.

And Logan was so glad that he did.

It had been such a long time since he felt this happy.

* * *

The social worker helping them with the adoption process was Mrs. Rachel Hernandez. She was nice. She reminded Logan of Miss Wilton.

Even with the kind assistance of Mrs. Hernandez, Logan was still very nervous. And now for several reasons. The very first and obvious being he wasn't sure he'd be a good dad — actually, that was most of the reasons. Another reason, unrelated to that, was the whole process reminded him of being torn away from his brother. It was silly, he knew, but the connection was still there. Along with all the anxieties it brought.

A lot of these kids were like him; stuck in an unfortunate circumstance that they had no say in. Logan was considered a lucky one. He got to return to his family. These kids were up for adoption because they weren't as lucky. He knew how it felt to lose everything you were familiar with and be thrust into the hands of strangers.

Then one day, after months of waiting, they had a match.

"I understand you were only intending to adopt one child," she started, and Logan wondered for a moment if this was how his first foster family was talked to when the prospect of siblings came up. "But Roman has a twin brother. We'd prefer to keep them together, but if you're adamant about only one then —"

"No," Logan blurted out before he could stop himself.

Mrs. Hernandez and Patton stared at him in wide-eyed shock. He normally kept quiet during these talks unless he had to answer something. And he never rose his voice like that.

His cheeks flushed. "I mean… I would prefer to not separate any siblings."

Mrs. Hernandez turned to Patton for his opinion.

"Uh," he tore his eyes away from Logan. "Yeah. I agree with that sentiment."

After everything had been dealt with, they left the office. But when Patton sat in the driver's seat, he didn't start the car. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "So…" he started casually. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Logan pretended to be interested in the parking lot.

"You know what."

Ugh, it would have been so much better to ignore it. He sighed. "When I was put in foster care, they separated me from Thomas. So I know how it feels to not have your brother with you during one of the most stressful times in your life."

There was a pause. "You never told me that."

Logan shrugged. "I didn't want you to feel any worse for me than you already did."

Patton fumbled for a response, but in the end, he couldn't seem to find one at all.

The day they met Roman and Virgil, Logan was instantly reminded of being at Miss Wilton's side all those years ago. They were hesitant — scared — and didn't say a word. Logan knew better than anybody what they must be feeling.

Maybe that was the real reason they spoke to him first.

"Daddy!" Roman marched into the living room, a tiny scowl on his face. It was a day before their eleventh birthday "Virgil touched my stuff!"

"I did  _ not!" _ Virgil shouted from the bedroom.

"Then why is it missing?"

"You didn't put it away."

Logan rolled his eyes. They had a habit of yelling across the house to each other. He blamed Patton. "Roman, if you're going to argue with your brother, at least do it in the same room."

Roman huffed and crossed his arms. "My color pencils are missing and I haven't touched them."

"Where did you leave them last?"

"In the room."

Logan stood up. "Let's go look for them, then." He followed Roman back to his bedroom. He still shared with Virgil. They didn't mind it yet, but Logan had a sneaking suspicion it would start soon. 

Not even two minutes in the room and Logan found the color pencils. "They're right here."

"Oh." Roman took them with a sheepish grin.

"I told you you didn't put it away." Virgil stuck his tongue out at him. "This is why I'm Daddy's favorite." To emphasize his point, he hugged Logan's side.

Roman gasped dramatically. "No you're not —  _ I _ am." He dropped his color pencils and rushed to Logan's other side. "Tell him I'm your favorite."

"Well, he's not because  _ I'm _ his favorite."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh."

"Daddy!" Roman tugged on Logan's shirt. "Which one of us is right?"

"Neither of you. I don't have a favorite." He smirked at their disbelieving pouts. "You're both my little beasties. It's hard to have a favorite when you're tearing up the place all the time."

They took offense to that, blaming each other for the messes they made (together) and insisting that they were the good twin  _ and _ the favorite because they cleaned up. It was only interrupted by the front door opening.

Roman gasped. "Dad's home."

"I'm gonna ask him who his favorite is." Virgil took off.

"It's gonna be me!" Roman followed after him.

Logan smiled at the commotion they created.

* * *

He sat on the bed with his wedding ring clasped tightly in his hand. Angry, hot tears still rolled down his cheeks and he hated it. He wanted to stop crying. It had been  _ hours _ — why was he still crying?

He unfurled his fingers. There were indents in his palm from how tight he held his ring. He wanted to throw it. Break it. Do  _ something _ to it. But he knew he would never bring himself to do anything he thought of. It would only upset him later.

So he put it back on.

It didn't feel right there anymore, but he couldn't bear to lose it.

He let the tears fall even as they turned from angry to distressed. He was an idiot, wasn't he? He should have known this life was too good to be true.

He wasn't destined to have a happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently my favorite trope is "older brother figure gives his all to raise younger brother figure on his own". I was unaware of that until writing this fic. Guess you learn something new every day


End file.
